


I surrender myself like a ransacked city

by trusteachother



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Incest, Jonsa Kink Week, Minor Jon Snow/Arya Stark, Multi, POV Arya Stark, Sibling Incest, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2019-03-14 13:30:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13591062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trusteachother/pseuds/trusteachother
Summary: She thought she would have to get used to sharing him when she first arrived back at Winterfell but that had been the easiest thing of all. Her sister has changed and so have Jon and herself. How did she ever expect to feel the same way as before?(Day 6: actually incest)





	I surrender myself like a ransacked city

**Author's Note:**

> This is not as dirty as it could be but smut is not my forte. Anyways I hope you enjoy!!!

* * *

Sansa bites her nail absentmindedly and finds her gazing at her. She’s been caught and the way her sister looks away has her thinking of how she behaves around her brother. Jon and Sansa are all silence and longing looks. They feel at ease when the other is close but also spit awkward, rushed sentences out and try to hide their reddened cheeks. Perhaps a little guilt comes to play as well, Arya thinks.

 

There is no such thing between her and Jon. They train together and joke around, he still ruffles her hair and sometimes even calls her _‘’little sister''_  , like she’s nine namedays again. He’s handsome, she knows, and Sansa being attracted to him comes as no surprise. She thought she would have to get used to sharing him when she first arrived back at Winterfell but that had been the easiest thing of all. Her sister has changed and so have Jon and herself. How did she ever expect to feel the same way as before?

 

How Sansa was kind without being naïve and powerful without being drunk on it baffled her when she first saw it. The rasp of her strong voice and the stillness of her back when she walks all contribute to her majesty. People listen and respect her and the usual court rumours say she turns into a red wolf at night.

 

Being part of her close circle only amplifies the calm, almost silent buzz of something just outside her reach the presence of her sister provides.

 

Sansa sews her new clothes and mends her old ones. They walk and sup together and sometimes they sit in her solar and she tells her about monstrosities she endured or what the children in Wintertown need most. Arya blushes at the thought of sleeping next to her sister, but it’s a new comfort. Sansa hums until she falls asleep and later wakes up with her head pillowed on her older sister’s breast.

 

Sometimes she feels selfish and daydreams that Sansa is hers. Then she remembers her sister has known too many people that have wanted to own her, and that there’s Jon, and when she’s not with her, she’s with him.

 

‘’I thought you didn’t do that anymore,’’ she says, almost chastising, ‘’what would Septa Mordane say?’’

 

Sansa stops in her tracks. Her voice is suspiciously low and she thinks she has got her message across when Sansa releases her nail from between her teeth but keeps her finger there. She looks away and back at her and she might even look vulnerable.

 

‘’The ever-proper lady of Winterfell? Biting her nails?’’

 

She clicks her tongue and takes a tentative step toward her and sees Sansa’s chest move up and down like she can’t breathe anymore. Good. Arya moves her hand to cup her sister jaw and as if on cue, she feels her relax and drop her finger. She replaces it with her own.

 

Sansa sucks on it and she could cry. She looks at her from behind her lashes and Arya brushes the intrusive hairs out of her face. Pretty things seem to have an effect on her and Sansa is pretty all over.

 

There is a knock on the door and her sister startles, but Arya won't let the moment die.

 

“Tell them to leave.” She doesn’t even blink at her unrecognizably deep voice but she does as she’s told and almost manages her ordinary tone.

 

She looks back up, expectantly, and Arya wants to kiss her.

 

“Sansa?” Jon’s familiar voice calls, interrupting her. She can’t be mad when the next move unfolds clearly in front of her.

 

“Should we invite him in, sweet sister?”

 

She does not nod nor refuse, but her breath is caught in her throat.

 

“What would _he_ say if he saw you like this?”

 

She takes out her finger and crashes her mouth against hers. Arya begins her exploration, and Sansa is as sweet as apple pies. She wants to tear off her clothes and feel her everywhere, spy every little corner but also bite and taste and save her in her memory forever.

 

But Sansa soon whimpers at her violent teeth and she has to remember she is cold as ice but it melts fast. Her sister needs time and patience and she knows how to provide both.

 

 

***

 

 

She never liked people that had power over others and used it for the wrong purposes.

 

And there _is_ a small voice, very Catelyn-esque, telling her, asking her, _“is this alright?”_ , but watching her brother strip her sister naked is spreading a warm feeling from the tip of her toes to the back of her eyelids.

 

Sansa’s chest is flushed scarlet and her eyes are watery from just that. If she weren’t aware of her sister’s suffering in King’s Landing, she would find her reaction innocent. She’s learned how to read the Tully eyes she used to envy and knows there is lust in them, with just a bit of hesitation.

 

Jon awaits her command, as docile as Ghost. She can barely make him out in the dark but judging by his clenched jaw under her fingers, he wants this as much as them.

 

“Spread your legs, Sansa.”

 

Her big sister’s thigh trembles under her touch and Arya feels oddly triumphant. She’s growing steadily nervous, Arya realizes, reality catching up with her actions.

 

“So pretty, sweet sister.” She sounds as desperate as she feels. “You were always so graceful and soft. Always smelling nice and singing for all to hear. Will you sing for me now?”

 

She remembers Sandor referring to her sister as _“little bird”._ Sansa tries to protest but it comes out melodious.

 

“I don’t sing anymore.”

 

She’s in no position to adopt her usual cold tone, not with her cunt glistening with want in front of her little sister and half-brother, but she does anyway. Arya wants to laugh but Sansa’s gaze changes her mind.

 

“Howl for me then, she-wolf. Prove all the rumours to be true.”

 

She brushes her fingertip against her sensitive nub and draws back, but it’s enough to have Sansa throw her head backwards. She grins. All she can hear is Jon breathing heavily beside her.

 

“Do that again.”

 

A strange feeling settles in her stomach. She is charge now, not him, but arguing is the last thing she wants to do. Sansa licks her lips and Arya nods.

 

She moans before she even touches her again and how can she think about hierarchy when Jon’s encouraging words send jolts of desire up and down her spine and her sister is impossibly wet and writhing against her fingers?

 

“You’re doing so good, Arya. Make her come.”

 

Sansa opens her eyes and holds out a hand. Jon practically throws himself at her, still fully dressed, and kisses her. He moans against her mouth and Sansa begins whining like a hungry cub. She takes advantage of her momentary shift in attention to thrust a finger inside her and then another. She’s not unkind but it’s sudden and Sansa grabs Jon’s arm like she’s falling. She leans on his shoulder and Arya starts to build up an agonizingly slow pace.

 

“ _Please,”_ Sansa manages.

 

“Faster, Arya.” Jon fills in for her and is resolute. She wants to stick out her tongue at him and disobey, but Sansa is _so_ close and her cunt is pink and begging.

 

She never thought about kissing her brother until seeing his dark eyes watching her touch her sister in the most intimate of ways like only a man of the Night’s Watch would.

 

As if sensing her, he roughly grabs her by the nape and bites her bottom lip. Then, it’s thoughtful, like he’s kissing Sansa. It transforms into quick pecks and Jon starts to leave a wet trail down her throat. She feels him whisper again: “ _make her come”,_ and remembers where her fingers are. She finds her eyes surprisingly closed and when she opens them, her sister’s cheeks are red as if she was embarrassed.

 

She resumes her movements and dares to pinch Sansa’s left nipple with her free hand. She presses closer to Jon and he begins whispering in her ear. She can’t hear them and weirdly doesn’t want to like she would if they were anyone else.

 

Sansa’s whimpering returns and she feels her clenching around her. “That’s it, Sansa, sweet girl,” their brother says and holds her through her climax.  She has the illusion they will continue, and maybe bring Sansa to another peak, but Jon licks the wetness off her fingers and takes Sansa to her bed.

 

It shatters, and Arya can feel her numbness dissipate, like when uncle Benjen finished his stories and she had to be a lady again. She doesn’t move from where she kneels on the cold floor, her clothes sticky against her skin.

 

“Come, Arya.” She hears Jon’s hoarse voice coming from Sansa’s bed and she stands up like her mind hadn’t been miles away just a minute before.

 

She means to ask, but the intention is clear. The space next to her sleeping sister calls her name and she goes willingly.

 

With Jon’s hand on her waist and Sansa’s hair on her lips, she dreams of a pack wolves and sleeps soundly like ever since coming back home.

  
  
  


_Title from Wife in Reverse by Hala Alyan._

**Author's Note:**

> before you guys ask i put jonrya in the additional tags because i felt this was more sansa/sarya/jonsa centric??? and a lot of jonryas don't like jonsa so it felt safer idk. feedback is great!!!!


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